Unlooked For
by Scribbles-by-Kate
Summary: repeatinglitanies prompted: With the Mayor out of town to search for her runaway son, the Severe Nurse uses the nameless mental patient to make extra money…by offering the mental patient's "services" to Mr Gold, who's currently in the hospital for his injured leg. RumBelle, cursed AU. Rated for mentions of physical and mental abuse, non-consensual sex, and prostitution.
1. Chapter 1

So, this is my first attempt at a prompt :) and it's one that's sort of out of my comfort zone writing-wise, so we'll see how I manage it… I decided to call the Severe Nurse 'Nurse Fletcher': anyone care to guess why? :)

_Once Upon a Time_ belongs to Adam, Eddy, and ABC: I'm just borrowing.

**Unlooked For**

1

Nurse Fletcher has always liked the finer things in life: fine clothes, fine food, expensive jewels, and living in the lap of luxury. On her salary alone, she would never be able to afford such high living, but she's a shrewd woman; she knows ways to make extra money. Opportunities arise from time to time and she's quick to take advantage. It so happens that the man who keeps the asylum clean, the man they all call Chief, is no orderly but a patient himself. Nurse Fletcher seized the opportunity to replace a paid orderly with a quiet, non-troublesome patient and redirect the salary to a bank account that she holds. The hospital authorities are none the wiser, of course, and the asylum is clean, and Nurse Fletcher has a second income that she finds rather helps with her lavish lifestyle. Nobody cares about the mental patients anyway: as long as things run smoothly and there's no trouble, Nurse Fletcher can do pretty much what she wants.

The hospital is a good place to hear gossip and Nurse Fletcher hears plenty, even down in the basement. She likes gossip generally, but she particularly likes it when she can use it to make a little extra cash. The word today is that Madam Mayor's son has run away from home, and that Ms Mills is gone out of town on a frantic hunt for the boy. The moment she hears that bit of information, Nurse Fletcher's mind starts to whirr, a plan forming.

There's a girl down here that Madam Mayor has a particular interest in. Lord knows why: the girl doesn't even have a name. Still, Mayor Mills always asks about her when she drops by every other month or so. She's a quiet girl, docile enough, and there's a sort of blankness about her, as if there's no personality there. Nurse Fletcher has had ideas before about how to make some money off her, but the mayor's explicit interest in the girl kept her from acting, but now that Ms Mills is out of town…

The girl is very pretty: with some sunlight and better food, one might even call her beautiful. She has blue eyes, clear skin, and an abundance of chestnut curls. The curls need a good brush through them and the face needs a little makeup to hide the pallor, and she'll have to get her a dress, but Nurse Fletcher knows she can make the girl look decent for what she has in mind.

The girl always does what she's told, just like Chief. That'll be an advantage: Nurse Fletcher knows of plenty of men who'll like that. Albert Spencer, the District Attorney, is rich, and rumour has it that he likes to be in control in the bedroom. She'll call Spencer and tell him she has a girl he'll like. She's sure he'll pay handsomely when she tells him the girl will obey every command he gives. In the meantime, she'll find a dress for the girl to wear and tell her she's going on a little adventure.

At least, that's what she plans to do, but then she goes to the cafeteria for lunch and spots Mr Gold coming in, leaning heavily on his cane. His leg must be troubling him, she realises, but feels no sympathy. Gold is ruthless, cold, and unfeeling: he cares for nothing and no one, so she cares nothing for him.

Well, that's not quite true. Gold is rich, richer than Spencer… And now her mind is whirring again.

Gold isn't as predictable as Spencer: Nurse Fletcher doesn't know how he'll take her proposition, but when it comes to making money, she's willing to try anything.

She keeps her eyes on Gold as he gets his coffee and gets up to follow him as he leaves. She notices how people step aside for him as he passes and sees in him herself, only on a greater scale. Her patients fear her: they do what she says when she says it or they face the consequences, but Mr Gold has the entire town at his feet. She wouldn't mind knowing what it is to wield that kind of power.

She follows Gold to the parking lot and realises he's going to leave before she can talk to him, but then he drops his keys and she realises she's in luck after all.

'Here, Mr Gold: let me get those for you,' she offers, swooping down for the keys.

He looks at her as he takes the keys from her and she can see he's sizing her up, trying to figure out what she wants. He's a smart man, Mr Gold: he knows she followed him out here on purpose.

'Well, your rent is fully paid up and you don't owe me any loan payments, so what is it you want from me, dear?' he asks, not beating about the bush.

She smiles. 'I noticed that your leg is troubling you more than usual,' she replies, 'and I thought you might be in need of…comforting.'

He continues to look at her. If he's surprised, he doesn't show it.

'Not interested,' he says with a sneer, and if she were interested in him like _that_, she'd be offended.

'Oh, I didn't mean me,' she tells him easily. 'I have someone in mind, a pretty little thing: she'll do anything you ask of her.'

'Will she, now?' he asks in disbelief. 'And who is this woman?'

'Oh, we'll just call her Margie,' she says, and smiles.

'Who is she?'

'A friend. She needs to make some money and she sometimes asks me to find someone for her. I can bring her to your house later and she can spend the night.'

He shoots her a contemplating look. 'And what's in it for you?'

'Oh, well, she and I have an agreement,' she says, and says nothing more.

'Of course you do,' he says. The world has made a cynic of Gold: no one does something for nothing, it seems, but he senses that the nurse can be discreet, and that's what he requires. The whole town knows about Albert Spencer's predilections: he'd prefer them not know what he does in his spare time.

'How much are we talking?' he asks.

'A thousand,' she replies at once. He raises an eyebrow, finding her price steep. 'She'll do anything you want,' she reminds him, 'and she'll be discreet about it.'

And the nurse has to get her cut, he supposes. Well, that's for them to work out between them: he doesn't much care.

'Deal,' he says. 'Bring her by at eight sharp.'

'Of course,' Nurse Fletcher returns: 'good afternoon, Mr Gold.' And she turns and walks away, smiling to herself in satisfaction.

0

The young woman looks up as the door creaks open and she scrambles to her feet as the nurse comes in. She's frightened of this woman and doesn't want to give her any excuse to hurt her. She frowns, though, when she sees that the nurse is carrying shoes and some black cloth and some other things in a bag.

The nurse smiles, but it's not in a reassuring way. Still, the woman stands still, awaiting instruction.

'Now, dear,' the nurse says, 'we're going to get you cleaned up: I have a little job for you.'

**To be continued…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Unlooked For**

2

'Where are we going?' the girl asks, fiddling with the hem of the short black dress as she sits in the car beside Nurse Fletcher.

Nurse Fletcher shoots her a look and the girl looks down, but the woman knows she needs to inform the girl of the rules for the evening, so she speaks.

'Listen carefully,' she orders, and the girl looks up, fear in her eyes. It makes Nurse Fletcher smile. 'I'm taking you to a man named Mr Gold: you're going to spend the night with him. You're to tell him that your name is Margie and you're to do anything he wants you to do. You are not to say a word about the asylum. Do you understand me?'

The young woman stares at the older woman. Oh, she understands alright: she's to be used for sex and this _Mr Gold_ will pay the nurse for her services. She wants to cry.

She doesn't understand how her life has turned out like this. She knows that she doesn't remember who she is, but she's not crazy: she's not! She doesn't _belong_ in the asylum, and she doesn't belong here, in this car, in this awful, too-tight, too-short dress, with this crap on her face to hide how pale she is, but here she is, and she'll do what she's told because to think about disobeying makes her so afraid, but this is _not_ who she is, she thinks: she's not this timid, frightened little mouse…

'Do you understand me?' the nurse asks again, sharply, and the young woman jumps.

'Yes, ma'am,' she rasps out, her voice thin and high.

'Good girl.'

The young woman closes her eyes, trying to block out the other woman's presence. She doesn't remember her name or where she comes from, but she doesn't believe she's always been this timid. It's just that her cell is cold and dark enough, and she gets little food as it is: she doesn't want to make her predicament worse. It's _easier_ just to do what she's told. Besides, she knows that there are worse things than compliance: she's experienced them. She remembers the beginning of her time at the asylum vividly: she remembers how she fought and argued and protested that she wasn't crazy. She remembers how she fought physically to get away, to get back to…_someone_, and she remembers what the result of her fighting was.

She remembers the brightly lit room and people holding her down, and she remembers the strap across her forehead, and the ones around her arms and legs. She remembers the way her body convulsed over and over with the electric shocks, and her muffled screams of agony around the thing they stuck in her mouth to keep her from biting her tongue. They said it was for her own good, but she remembers the cold indifference in the nurse's eyes, and she remembers the almost gleeful look in the other woman's eyes as she looked on, the woman the nurse called Mayor Mills. She comes by sometimes – Mayor Mills – and peers in through the opening in the door at her. She doesn't know what she wants, but she hates her malicious smirk.

She doesn't want to go back to that room again, doesn't want to ever feel that agony again, so if compliance is the way to avoid that, so be it. She's terrified of that room. It's just down the hall from her cell and sometimes she hears things in the dark, screams of agony from other patients who displease the nurse, and probably the mayor too. That's what that room is for: for punishment, not treatment, it's meant to hurt, not help. She does what she's told to avoid going back there again.

There are days, though, when she wonders why she's so desperate to survive. Why does she bother? No one is looking for her: no one is coming for her: no one cares. No one would mourn if she went to sleep and never woke up.

No, she can't cry: the nurse will be angry if she cries and makes the mascara run. She can't make the nurse angry. Oh, lord, how did she get here? What did she ever do to deserve _this_?

0

She's not what he expected. Well, no: in one way, she's _exactly_ what he expected – tight black dress that's indecently short and far too much make up: and doesn't she know that it's far more alluring to leave things to the imagination and that less is more? She doesn't act the way he expected, though, not for someone who's done this before. She's meek, timid, deferring to Nurse Fletcher in everything. He's not sure what's going on here, but this isn't what he expected.

He's tempted to tell Nurse Fletcher to take her friend and go, but there's something about the young woman – _Margie_ – that has caught his attention. It's as if he can see something else beneath the ghastly dress, makeup, and teased hair, something that makes his heart clench. It's a strange reaction, one that steals his breath the first time he looks at the woman, into her sweet, round face and bright blue eyes.

He would almost think that he knew her in another life, except he doesn't believe in that crap. Gold is nothing if not practical and realistic: there's no place in his life for such foolishness. Still…there's something about this woman…

Nurse Fletcher asks to speak to him and he asks Margie – _that name doesn't feel right_, a voice tells him, but he ignores it – to wait, and follows the nurse.

'I'll come and pick her up in the morning,' she tells him, 'but I'll take our payment now.'

'I don't think so,' he replies. She's too cocky, this woman: she reminds him of Madam Mayor, and that's not flattering to her.

'Very well,' she replies, recognising when she's beaten. She smiles in what she thinks is a pleasant manner, but it has the opposite effect, making him want to cringe.

Nurse Fletcher goes back in and speaks to "Margie". 'Remember, do everything he says and say nothing about the asylum or you will regret it,' she murmurs.

"Margie" nods, swallowing fearfully.

The nurse smiles that cold smile. 'Good girl. I'll pick you up in the morning.'

She smiles once more at Gold. 'Enjoy,' she invites, and walks out past him.

He closes the door behind her, glad to see the back of her. There's something about her that makes him recoil: he feels it more the longer he's in her presence. Still, she's gone now.

He goes back in and finds Margie waiting where Nurse Fletcher left her. She looks up, tensing, and he suddenly _knows_ that he's been lied to: this woman's never done anything like this before: he can read it in her body language.

Gold pauses in the doorway, unsure of what to do. He doesn't like being made a fool of, and anyone who's ever tried it has felt his wrath, but something keeps him from snapping at this meek little woman. _It's not her fault_, the same voice from earlier tells him, and he listens to it this time: he knows it's not her fault.

What to do, though…

Something occurs to him to do and he beckons to her, crooking his index finger.

'Come with me,' he instructs.

"Margie" follows obediently, her heart pounding wildly. She feels herself shaking in fear, but she tries to quell it, knowing that she has to do anything he wants or face the nurse's wrath.

Mr Gold leads her up the stairs and down the hall. He points into a tiled room that she realises is the bathroom.

'Wait here,' he instructs.

He's gone a few minutes and then he returns with a bundle of clothes.

'Take that awful dress off and put these on,' he commands. 'And brush your hair and take that stuff off your face as well. You'll find what you need in the cabinet. Come back downstairs when you're done.'

She nods, speechless, and, despite her surprise, she hurries to comply.

The clothes he's given her are obviously his: a pair of pants she guesses are for sleeping in and a t-shirt. There's also a pair of socks for her feet, so she won't have to wear the shoes that are too big and too high for her.

She realises as she dresses in the clothes that they're going to hide all her curves, such as they are, and when she takes off the makeup, she's going to look very unappealing. Still, maybe Mr Gold doesn't like women to look so made up, and "Margie" thinks she'd rather see her face the way she's used to seeing it, so, after changing into the more comfortable clothes, she finds something she can use to take the makeup off. Then she takes her hair out of the bun the nurse put it in and attempts to brush through it. It takes a while to get the tangles from the teasing out, but she manages it, and looks in the mirror to find her own face looking back, which, pale and drawn as it is, is a comfort.

She pads down the stairs feeling a bit braver and finds Mr Gold in the sitting room they were in earlier. He has his back to her and hasn't heard her come in, so she takes a moment to study him.

He's not a tall man, so at least she doesn't have to crane her neck to see him. He wears a suit and carries a cane in his right hand. He has a noticeable limp and she wonders if it's painful. The other thing she's noticed is that he's several years older than her. She doesn't remember how old she is, but the tufts of grey in his hair tell her he's a good deal older than her.

So much for his appearance: his personality, on the other hand, can't be so easily read. He gave her different clothes to wear and wanted her to look more like herself, but she's not sure what that means.

She taps gently on the door and he turns, something in his hands: it's a little china cup, she realises.

'That's better,' he says, looking her over and nodding.

'Yes, sir,' she says.

'Come in and sit down,' he invites.

She comes and sits on the couch, her hands folded in her lap.

He studies her. She's pale, but he likes her face better without all that slap on it. She's also too thin, which bothers him more than he thinks it should. She's not eating enough, and then he remembers that she's doing this to make money, and probably has other mouths to feed. And now he's wondering why he's never seen her before now, why she's never come to him for help before. Probably tried to avoid it, he guesses: people usually do, only tending to come to him when they're desperate. She must be really desperate to sell herself for a thousand dollars, he thinks.

People think he's a bastard, and when it comes to paying rent and loans on time, he is uncompromising, but there are boundaries even he won't cross, and paying for sex with a woman who's only doing this because she's starving is one of them. He's not new to paying for sex: he doesn't do it often, but he has done it, and he's never questioned it before, always seeing it in terms of a contract: payment for services rendered. Now, though, he's revolted at the thought of using this woman in that way. This is _different_ somehow, because she's… He doesn't know what she is: he doesn't know why he's reacting this way, and that scares him, but he won't touch her. All he wants to do is protect her: he has no idea where that thought came from, but it's there, and it's true.

He realises that his hands are shaking and he puts the broken teacup on the coffee table in front of her. He's not even sure why he picked the thing up, or why he even holds onto a broken piece of crockery: Gold is not a sentimental man.

'Oh,' she says softly, looking at the cup.

'What is it?' he asks.

"Margie" picks the cup up carefully, noticing that it's warm from his hands.

'I-it's chipped,' she says, holding the cup up, a look of concern on her face.

He stares at her, his heart beating wildly for some completely unknown reason.

'It's just a cup,' he says, trying to reason with himself more than her.

'Right,' she says, and puts the cup back with a tremulous little smile.

He takes a breath, wondering why he's reacting so strongly to her. Again, he wonders if they knew each other in another life and then he tells himself to stop being an idiot. Another life indeed!

"Margie" sees the frown on his face and worries that she's displeased him. She's been ordered to do what she's told, and commenting on broken teacups definitely doesn't fall under that.

'I-is there something you'd like me to do for you?' she asks, looking up at him and trying to hide her fear and revulsion.

He looks at her and the rush of feeling almost overwhelms him. He's so incredibly _moved_ by her. It's entirely inexplicable, but it's there.

'I'd like your company,' he tells her: 'I'll pay you for that, but not for your body.'

She stares back at him, blood rushing in her ears.

'You…you don't want to go to bed with me?' she asks.

'No, dear.'

She's stunned, and then there is relief, followed by elation, and suddenly she wants to cry grateful tears.

She heaves a breath and looks at him. There are tears in her eyes and, oh, dear God, his heart hurts to see her like that. He doesn't even know her, but the thought of causing this woman pain is abominable to him.

"Margie" smiles then, awed and grateful for the turn of events that brought her to this man. Suddenly she feels safe, and she can't remember the last time she felt that way.

'Thank you,' she breathes.

'She led me to believe that you've done this kind of thing before, but you haven't, have you?' he asks, and she can tell that he already knows.

She knows she has to be careful what she says, because she knows that the nurse will make good on her threat to make her regret it if she reveals anything about the asylum.

'No, I haven't,' she tells him.

He nods, but doesn't ask her why the nurse lied. She doesn't know anyway, though she thinks it was to be cruel. The nurse doesn't have a caring bone in her body, so it's strange that she's a nurse.

'And your name is not really Margie, is it?' he asks.

'Why do you say that?' she asks. She's afraid because she can't tell him that she doesn't actually know her name.

'You don't look like a Margie,' he says, and that makes her smile, because she doesn't think so either.

'I'm not Margie,' she confirms, 'but…'

'But I should call you that anyway,' he guesses. He will, if that's what she wants. God knows he's got his secrets too.

'Yes,' she says, and he nods.

'Very well.'

She smiles and thanks him, and he realises that it's a true smile she sends him now, not the tiny, tremulous thing it was minutes ago. The crazy thought comes to him that there's nothing he wouldn't do for a gift of one of her smiles.

'Would you like something to eat?' he asks, his heart twisting as her eyes light up.

'That would be lovely,' she says, her voice soft.

'Come with me,' he requests.

"Margie" follows him down the hall to the kitchen and sits on a stool by the counter as he bids her.

'I'm not much of a cook,' he says conversationally, 'but I think I can manage a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches.'

'Is there anything I can do to help?' she asks, though she is a bit nervous of all the appliances.

He shakes his head, though. 'It won't take long,' he assures her.

Ten minutes later, they're sitting side-by-side at the counter, eating grilled cheese sandwiches and drinking tea.

"Margie" can't remember the last time anything tasted so good and she devours the sandwich quickly.

She has a bit of colour back in her cheeks, he sees, and is glad.

'That was delicious,' she says: 'thank you.'

'You're welcome.' He wants to ask her about her life, about why she doesn't get enough to eat, but something stops him. He's enjoying her smiles: he doesn't want to chase them away.

She smiles now, grateful once more that she's here tonight and not with someone who wouldn't be kind, or back in the asylum. One night's reprieve is more than she thought she would ever get.

'You have a lovely home,' she tells him.

'Thank you.'

'Are you a collector?' she asks. There are lots of _things_ in his house, old things. She feels like she could happily spend hours looking at them.

'I'm an antiquities dealer,' he tells her, and he's a little surprised, because he thought everyone in town knew who he was.

'How interesting,' she says, eyes shining.

He smiles. 'Come,' he invites, standing up.

She follows, intrigued.

He leads her around the ground floor of his house, showing her the most interesting things in his collection: a samurai sword from Japan, a papyrus scroll, a medieval goblet, and other treasures.

"Margie" is enchanted, listening avidly to his stories. He's opening up a world of adventure to her and it's the greatest gift she's ever been given.

'It's all so fascinating,' she says, 'like being everywhere without leaving your home.'

'Yes,' he agrees, 'and it gets better.'

'It does?' she asks, looking up into his eyes.

He smiles. Oh, he'd love to touch her, love to just trace her cheek with his fingertips, but he resists.

'Yes,' he says: 'I'll show you.'

She follows him and he leads her to another room. Throwing open the door and flicking on the light, he bids her enter.

Her heart beats wildly when she sees the books.

'Oh,' she breathes, unsure why she's having such a visceral reaction. Suddenly it's as if she's come _home_.

'"We may sit in our library and yet be in all quarters of the earth,"' he recites.

'It's wonderful,' she says, eyes shining as she looks around at the rows upon rows of books.

Again, the look on her face makes his heart clench. It's such a simple pleasure, reading, and she looks like she's been denied it.

'Pick one,' he invites: 'pick one and we'll read it together.'

"Margie" looks at him, delighted. She can't remember the last time she read a book, but she's sure it's something she enjoyed.

'There are so many to choose from,' she says, but begins to read their titles.

He watches her move around his library and feels like he could get used to this sight: her choosing a book for them to read together. It's a wonderful thought and it's a frightening thought. He doesn't do this kind of thing, doesn't get close. Getting close means getting hurt, so he guards his heart.

"Margie" finds a book with an intriguing title: _Around the World in Eighty Days_, by Jules Verne, and she plucks it from the shelf.

'This one?' she suggests, showing it to Mr Gold.

He nods and smiles. 'That one.'

And they sit side-by-side on the couch, taking turns to read chapters in the story of Phileas Fogg's journey around the world.

Gold is drawn in by the sound of her voice: it's sweet and musical and soothing, and it's stealing its way into his heart. He wasn't looking for this, but…

"Margie" doesn't think she's ever been so happy. Her heart swells as she listens to his smooth voice read the story.

For one brief, wonderful moment, they've found peace.

0

"Margie" wakes warm and comfortable instead of cold and aching. She realises that she's curled up on a couch and there's someone beside her.

_Mr Gold_. Her mind supplies the name and then the memories follow. Yes: she was brought here for his amusement, but their time together ended up being very different. He was kind, thoughtful: he made her feel safe, and she was never so happy before. But the nurse will come for her this morning. The thought is like a bucket of ice water being poured over her head.

'Good morning,' he greets, the tension in her body telling him she's woken up.

She looks up and smiles weakly. 'Good morning.'

'Did you sleep well?' he asks.

She nods and looks around. 'I-I'm sorry: I must have dozed off.'

He nods. 'Some time around one,' he tells her: 'I didn't want to disturb you.' She looked like she needed the rest, and it had been a sweet moment, watching her slumber. He went and grabbed a blanket from his room and draped it over her. Then, not wanting to leave her alone or be alone himself, he'd sat back down beside her, and eventually dozed off as well.

'And you stayed with me?' she asks, realising that the blanket that covers her covers him also, and that she's leaning against him, and his arm is around her shoulders.

He nods. 'I hope that's alright: I–'

'Oh, yes,' she says, interrupting him. 'Thank you.'

He nods, relieved: he doesn't want to do anything to upset or hurt her.

'You're welcome,' he murmurs. 'How about some breakfast?'

She nods. 'That would be lovely. I should go and get changed first, though,' she says.

He hesitates for a moment, wanting to say something, but then he nods, and they both get up from the couch, she heading for the bathroom to exchange his comfortable clothes for the dress that makes her uncomfortable, and he heading to the kitchen to make her breakfast.

_Tell him_, a voice whispers: _he'll help you_. But she shakes her head: he'll think she's crazy. _No, he won't_. She's a mental patient who doesn't even know her own name: the odds are stacked against her: of course he'll think she's crazy.

She changes back into the dress and the shoes, never realising that he's also doing battle with himself as he mixes a batter for pancakes.

_She needs help_. He is helping: the money will help. _Ask her to stay_. She has a life to get back to. _It's not much of a life: she's not getting enough to eat, and she's not getting enough sleep_. He can't force her to stay. _You could ask_. He doesn't need the complication. _Is that really what she is?_

She comes into the kitchen as he's debating with himself. They smile at each other, but the intimacy is gone. She's changed her clothes and he remembers why she came here and that it was always planned for her to leave. It won't be long now and his life will be the way it was. He doesn't know whether he's sad or relieved.

"Margie" thanks him as he places a plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon on the table in front of her. He smiles and they eat together quietly.

As she pushes her plate away, he reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out an envelope.

'This is for you,' he says: 'not as payment for your company, but because I want to help you.'

She looks at the envelope. She'll never see a penny of that money, but she's touched that he would want to help her.

'Thank you,' she says: 'you've been very kind, and…not many people have.'

'Thank you very much for your company,' he says: 'you'll never know how grateful I am.'

'It was lovely to meet you,' she says, meaning it.

'You too.'

She stands and he follows. He's surprised when she comes close and hugs him, kissing his cheek gently.

'Thank you,' she whispers: 'I'll never forget you.'

His hand rests lightly on her back. 'Nor I you.'

_Stay with me!_

'Goodbye.'

_Don't let me go!_

She steps away and smiles. He's the one good memory she has, and maybe, if she's lucky, if someone out there is watching over her, they'll meet again.

'Mar–' The doorbell cuts him off and she smiles tremulously and goes to answer it. He follows.

Nurse Fletcher stands on his doorstep and she smiles her cold smile that makes him cringe, "Margie" too.

'Ready to go?' she asks "Margie", raising an eyebrow at her.

'Yes.'

Nurse Fletcher sees the envelope in the girl's hand, but doesn't take it from her because Mr Gold is watching.

She smiles at him. 'I trust everything went well?'

He nods. 'Perfectly.'

'That's good,' Nurse Fletcher says. 'Come along, Margie: let's get you home.' And she puts her arm around the girl's shoulders and steers her towards the car.

Gold watches them drive away. So, that's it, then: back to his old, lonely life. Maybe he'll see her around town, but he won't hold his breath for it.

He closes the door and goes upstairs. It's a collection day: he has tenants to see.

0

'Emma Swan.'

He doesn't know how he manages it, but he does. He keeps a straight face, compliments the stranger, collects the rent he's owed, and takes his leave without breaking down. Then he's walking down the path as fast as his bad leg will allow and, turning into a deserted alleyway, he promptly retches.

Rumplestiltskin straightens up, breathing hard. Memories are sliding into their rightful places: his father, Milah, the Ogres War, Bae, the Dark One's dagger, the green portal, _Bae_!, the long years looking for a way to get to him, Cora, Zelena, Regina, Belle, _Belle_!, the curse to end all curses, and then twenty-eight years as the pawnbroker and landlord Mr Gold.

It's hard to breathe as everything slots into place, and things aren't making sense…

_'I'm not dealing today.'_

_'Is this about that girl I met on the road? What _was_ her name? Margie? Verna?'_

_'Belle.'_

_'Right.'_

_..._

_'She died.'_

Rumplestiltskin's head is pounding. She died…but he _saw_ her: he held her in his arms! Was that real, or was it some twisted trick of the curse?

He tries to remember. It was only this morning… He did: he held her! She was brought to him for… Oh, gods… But Gold was not that much of a bastard, thankfully, and all they did was talk and eat and read together.

But… oh, gods… no… no, no, no, no, no! Not again! You stupid, stupid _coward_: you did it again…

_You let her go…_

**To be continued – one more chapter…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Unlooked For**

3

Oh, gods…

How could he?

_I didn't know_. Yes, you did: you felt it, some connection, and you let her go anyway. Once a coward, always a coward: a new land and a curse can't change that.

He sighs. He wants to smash something, but what would that accomplish? No, he needs to fix this, somehow: he needs to find her.

Yes. She's alive: she's alive and he can save her. He'll find her: he will, and then…

He remembers how thin she was, remembers her pallor, remembers the money he handed over that he's sure she'll never see again, remembers the cold smile from the nurse…

That viper…

What has she done with his Belle?

She's alive!

Regina lied…

Fuming and trembling, he leaves the alley and makes his way back to Gold's car. It takes him a moment to remember how to work the contraption and then he's speeding down Main Street, heading for Gold's home.

He's shaking. He needs to calm down, needs to think, needs to sort these fractured thoughts into some kind of plan. He was always the man with the plan in the old world, and now that he has his memories back, he can figure this out. He can save Belle and make those evil bitches pay…

They're working together, he realises: the nurse and Regina, or the nurse is working for Regina… but he finds it impossible to believe that Regina would risk letting him meet Belle in this world: she wouldn't take the chance.

Didn't he hear something about young Henry running off and Regina going out of town in search of him? Yes, he did. She's back now, but she was gone all day yesterday. It seems that Nurse Fletcher took the opportunity of the mayor being out of town to make some money at Belle's expense.

Hmm: he's going to have to have a little _chat_ with that woman…

0

Gold's house is dark when Rumplestiltskin enters it. He flicks on a few lights and looks around. It's like he's seeing everything for the first time.

As he goes into the sitting room, he spies the cup on the coffee table and his heart lurches.

_I'm so sorry. It's…chipped_… _I-it's chipped_.

_It's just a cup_… _It's just a cup_.

Two memories, almost identical, from the way she held the cup up to the look on her face to the tremulous, nervous little smile. And his reaction was the same too: the strange fluttering inside at her care for something so small, just because it belonged to him.

'Oh, Belle,' he breathes, and picks up the cup, the only thing he has to remember her by. Thank the gods Gold was uncharacteristically sentimental and kept it. But this is his curse: Regina may have cast it, but he created it, and love is woven so tightly into its fabric that it influences everyone in this town, even Mr Gold. It will seem inexplicable, but it's also inevitable: love will find a way. Regina could curse them to kingdom come, but she'll never be able to prevent that bit of genius on Rumplestiltskin's part. It was necessary for the breaking of the curse, but as he was doing it, he was thinking of Belle and imagining that she would be proud of him. It was his apology to her, and his acknowledgement of the power of love, and her love in particular, but he hadn't known then that she was alive somewhere… But she is: Belle is alive, and Regina and that nurse will pay for what they've done.

Taking the cup with him, he goes upstairs. In the bathroom, he finds the clothes Belle wore folded neatly: Gold hadn't yet put them away.

Rumplestiltskin trembles as the memory of her presence invades his senses again: her voice, her scent, her beautiful face, her gentle ways, her curiosity…

He had her back and he let her go…

He sinks to his knees, pulling the bundle of clothes to his chest. The agony of being without her slams down on him once more. The coming of the curse was a blessing in that regard: he could forget for a while, but now he remembers and it's tearing into his heart. He sent her away…

She's alive, though… She's alive somewhere in this town. He's going to find her, and when he does, he's never letting her go again.

0

She wakes shivering and blinking in the cold dark. It will be winter soon. She can feel it coming, can almost see her breath turning to smoke as it meets cold air. She doesn't know that she'll survive another winter down here, is not sure that she wants to.

She raises her hand to her cheek and collects the teardrop with a cold fingertip. All the time, now, she wakes from dreams in which she's happy to find herself alone in the dark, the illusion shattered. She cries then, longing for sleep and to return to the safety and warmth of Mr Gold's library, and Mr Gold's arms.

She's lost track of how long it's been since that night: weeks, at least; maybe even months. The days run together down here. There's no routine, so it's difficult to keep track of the way time passes. She daydreams a lot now as well, goes back to her time with Mr Gold and imagines it never ended, imagines they finished the book they'd been reading and started on another.

The nurse took the money from her when they got into the car and counted it, smiling in satisfaction when she was finished.

'What happened to your face and hair?' she asked then, frowning.

'He didn't like it,' the young woman replied meekly: 'he told me to take the makeup off and brush my hair. I did everything he said, like you told me.'

The nurse looked at her long and hard, but she wasn't able to find any sign of deception, because there was none. Finally, the nurse nodded.

'Good girl. Now, let's get you back to your cell.'

So, it was back to the cold and the dark, but the nurse has left her alone since then: no more trips to strange men's homes. That's something, at least, though she'd do anything to see Mr Gold again.

They never even got to finish their book.

0

'If you want Ashley to have that baby, you'll have to do something for me in return.'

Emma looks at Gold. She doesn't know the man and she knows he's more than he appears, and she doesn't know that she can trust him, but Ashley wants to keep her baby, so Emma will do all in her power to help her, because no one helped her.

'What do you want?'

He smiles and she knows that he knows exactly what he wants from her.

'I'll be in touch,' he says.

0

It's something like three in the morning when Rumplestiltskin rings the bell at the large house. There's no answer and he rings the bell again. Finally, he hears footsteps, and then the door opens.

The man looks much the same as he remembers, but Rumplestiltskin is aware that he looks different.

'Care to make a deal, dearie?' he says, by way of greeting.

The man's eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up.

'You're…?'

'Indeed. Been a long time, Jefferson.'

Jefferson smiles. 'You'd better come in.'

Rumplestiltskin enters.

'So, what's this about a deal?' Jefferson asks.

0

He puts the final preparations in place for the rescue. He makes sure that Regina is distracted with the good sheriff so that Ms Swan is taking the night shift at the station, and Nurse Fletcher is on duty at the asylum.

_An asylum_: Regina has locked his Belle up in an asylum. He's filled with incandescent rage at the thought. His clever Belle branded insane, his beautiful Belle left to rot in a cold, dark cell, not given enough to eat, under the thumb of a sadistic nurse who would use her body to make money: it's enough to make him want to set the place ablaze. Oh, he's tempted, he's sorely tempted, but this calls for subtlety: he can't give away his true identity, at least not yet. He knows what he has to do: he only hopes Belle will trust him and go along with his plan.

Jefferson has been a big help. He knew about Belle, of course: he's been aware of the curse for the past twenty-eight years, so he's had time to learn all of Regina's secrets, and Nurse Fletcher's too. He was able to tell him about the money Nurse Fletcher has been embezzling from the hospital, was able to tell him the code for the locked door that isn't on the blueprints for the hospital, and was able to detail the layout of the basement asylum that also isn't on the blueprints. There are a number of supposed mental patients locked up down there, and Rumplestiltskin is willing to bet that not one of them is really crazy and that all of them have displeased Regina at one time or another. Well, her little secret isn't going to remain so for much longer, and when he's done, her credibility in this town will be shot.

Oh, he wants to do much more than discredit her: he wants to wrap his hand around her throat and _squeeze_, wants to reach into her chest and rip out her heart, but he'll settle for discrediting her, for now. A change is coming to Storybrooke, and, soon enough Regina will lose everything.

He's located everything he needs to execute his plan, all the records and documents to bring down Nurse Fletcher and expose Regina's secret. He can't do any more for now, but eventually both Regina and the nurse will truly know why Rumplestiltskin is the most feared sorcerer in all the realms.

0

Nurse Fletcher plays idly with the diamond bracelet Mr Gold's money paid for. There's still a bit of it left and she has her eye on a pair of designer shoes to add to her collection. It's a pity, though, that the mayor is back, because there's no chance of making any more money off the girl with her around, sticking her nose in. Nurse Fletcher wouldn't dare anger the mayor, so she's left the girl alone. As long as she behaves herself, they won't have a problem.

Nurse Fletcher sighs. It's quiet down here, apart from the constant whirr of the generator that powers the entire hospital and the periodic dripping of a leaky pipe. It's not a very glamorous job, this, and she often wishes for better, but such is life.

She's so caught up in thoughts of her dissatisfaction that she doesn't hear the footsteps until they're almost upon her. When she does hear them, she gasps as she sees Mr Gold come into view.

'How did you get in here? No one's supposed to be down here!'

He smiles, and it's not a reassuring smile.

'Because no one's supposed to know that this place exists, right?' he asks.

'What do you want?' she asks nervously.

'You know as well as I do that the woman you brought to my home a few weeks back isn't crazy,' he says. 'I've come to take her away from this place, and if I were you, I'd do exactly what you're told.'

'But, Mr Gold, she's here for her own safety!' she tries to protest.

'And bringing her to me and taking money for her services was for her safety, was it?' he snaps. 'You make me sick. I know I'm a bastard, but even I have my limits. Mark my words, you're gonna pay for what you've done to her. Now, you'll do what you're told or I'll make you regret it.'

She stares at him. Something's _different_ about Mr Gold. She'd always known him to be cold, but this isn't coldness: it's anger: white-hot and raging. It makes him more dangerous, more frightening. He's unpredictable: he was never that before. She comes to the sudden, horrific realisation that this man wouldn't hesitate to kill her right now if he felt like it.

'Are you gonna co operate?' he asks dangerously.

'Y-yes,' she says.

He bares his teeth and hisses at her. 'Good girl.' He holds out his hand. 'Your keys, please.'

She hands them over immediately, hand trembling. 'Please, Mr Gold, don't hurt me,' she begs.

He smirks, releasing a short, hissing laugh, and she shivers.

She recoils away, wanting to make herself seem small, and he feels a thrill to see her so meek and timid: it's how she made Belle feel, so it's fitting that she should feel that way now.

'I take it my money paid for that trinket on your arm,' he says, motioning to the bracelet on her wrist.

'Here,' she says, hurrying to remove it, but she pauses when he holds his hand up.

'Keep it,' he says: 'keep it as a reminder that I don't forget and I don't forgive.' He leans a little closer and smiles nastily. 'Keep it as a reminder that you and I have unfinished business.'

Her eyes widen even further, which makes him grin.

'I like knowing that you'll be looking over your shoulder until I come for you,' he says quietly, pleased that the sadistic bitch is quaking before him. Now she knows what it's been like for Belle.

'But perhaps I can be persuaded to be lenient,' he suggests 'provided you do everything I tell you.'

'Anything,' she promises.

He smiles, pleased. He has no intention of letting her off lightly, but she doesn't have to know that. Let her have that false sense of security: he'll enjoy his retribution all the more for it.

'Here's what you're going to do…'

He explains that she's not to alert the mayor to the fact that there's a patient missing: Madam Mayor will find out from another source. She's to go about her routine as normal and not let on to anyone that there's anything amiss. She's to give up any information she's asked for about this place and she's to corroborate any story she hears. Finally, she is not to tell anyone that he had anything to do with this. If she slips up, he won't hesitate to torture her like she tortures her patients.

'Do you understand?' he asks, once he's finished.

She nods. 'Yes.'

'Good girl. Now, sit tight and don't move.'

0

She hears the door creak open and scrambles to her feet, but the person who enters is not who she expects and her eyes widen as she sucks in a breath.

Rumplestiltskin stares at his True Love for the first time since he awoke and he feels tears trickle down his cheeks. Gods, she's so beautiful, even thin and pale as she is.

'Belle,' he chokes out, the name garbled because he can't speak properly.

She's trying to breathe. 'M-Mr Gold?' she asks, reaching a hand out.

'Yes,' he says, catching her reaching hand in his much warmer one.

She lets out the breath she took.

'You're real,' she breathes, tears trickling down her cheeks.

Her knees go out from under her then, but he catches her before she can sink to the floor. And now he's holding her close, stroking her hair.

'It's alright, Belle: you're safe. You've nothing to fear now: I'm here and I'm gonna protect you.'

She clings to him. 'You will?'

'Sweetheart, I promise.'

'Thank you.' She looks up at him then. 'But how did you find me?'

'I'll explain everything, but I need to get you out of here first.'

'M-Mr Gold, they say I'm crazy, but I'm not. Please, you have to believe me: I'm not crazy!'

She looks up at him with pleading, desperate eyes, and he's outraged once again that Regina could do this to his clever, sweet Belle.

He touches her cheek gently.

'I know you're not crazy, Belle: it's alright.'

'W-what did you call me?' she asks, and the name feels almost familiar: it feels right.

'I called you Belle: it's your real name.'

She frowns. 'You know who I am?' And her eyes light up. Such a simple thing, knowing your own name, and it's been taken away from her. She's a blank slate, he realises, apart from her encounter with him that night, when she told him to call her "Margie". He should have asked more questions, but it's part of the curse that people _don't_ ask questions, and, of course, Gold wasn't immune to that. He is going to rip Regina limb from limb and then crush her heart for what she's done.

He hugs Belle again. 'Yes, Belle, I know who you are.'

'But I don't understand,' she says: 'you didn't call me that before.' He's calling her 'sweetheart' too, and he's acting like he cares very much for her. It's…wonderful, and it feels right, but she's so confused.

'I know,' he agrees: 'I didn't remember who you were that night, but then I did, and I've been searching for you since then.'

'You care about me that much?' she asks.

He nods, staring at her. 'I love you.'

She looks up into his eyes. She knows that's true, and, though she doesn't remember loving him, she's sure she does and she tells him that. His eyes are soft.

'Can you help me remember?' she asks.

'Yes,' he says at once, even though she'll leave once she does. He'll let her go: he'll give her her freedom, because she's been held captive too long, and because he loves her.

'Thank you,' she whispers, kissing his cheek.

Once again, she feels how she felt that first night: safe and protected. She knows he'll take care of her, and she can take care of him too.

'Come on, sweetheart: I'm going to get you out of here,' he says.

'But the nurse!' she says, suddenly remembering the woman with her cold smile.

'She won't get in our way,' he promises, and she calms and follows him, holding his hand.

She whimpers, though, when she sees the nurse at her station, watching them, and he puts his arm around her.

'I've got you, sweetheart,' he whispers: 'you don't ever have to be afraid of her again.'

She has turned her head into his shoulder and she nods now, trying to control her trembling.

Gold looks at the nurse and raises a finger to his lips, reminding her that he was never here and to remember everything he's told her, and then he and Belle walk up the stairs and through the door to freedom.

0

Belle listens carefully, her eyes wide, as he tells her everything.

'So…the mayor is really the Evil Queen and she cursed all of us,' she says, 'and that's why I don't remember who I am or have any memories outside the asylum, because she wanted to hurt you.'

He nods. 'Yes.'

'She made you believe I was dead and locked me up, but now that the Saviour is here, you remember who you are, and when she breaks the curse, we'll all have our memories back.'

'Yes,' he says again.

She nods. 'And then you can find your son.'

'You're taking this rather well,' he comments.

'It's just a relief to know that I have a history that's not…that place,' she says, 'and it explains why I feel so drawn to you.'

'Do you have memories of there?' he asks, knowing she does and hating it.

She nods. 'I have a memory of electric shock treatment,' she says quietly: 'it was terrifying.' She shivers and he holds her close. 'She planted that memory, didn't she: the Evil Queen, to make me compliant.'

Either that, he thinks, or Regina actually did torture Belle in the Enchanted Forest and the curse transformed that memory into something that would make sense in this land. Either way, real or not, Belle has that memory of being tortured, and he will not let that stand. He's going to eviscerate that bitch and enjoy doing it.

'I'm so sorry, sweetheart,' he whispers.

'It wasn't your fault,' she tells him at once.

'I made you leave, Belle,' he says: 'if I hadn't pushed you away, Regina would never have captured you.'

She looks up at him. She doesn't remember that, of course, but she has the memory of his kindness in this world. Even when he didn't remember her, he was kind, and she can see in his eyes that he's sorry for what he did.

'But you found me,' she says: 'you came for me, and I never thought anyone would.'

Tears trickle down her cheeks and he can see her gratitude. Perhaps, then, she will forgive him when she remembers everything, but he'll understand if she doesn't. He'll do all he can to keep her safe from Regina because it's the right thing to do, not because he expects her to return his love.

'S-so, what do we do now?' she asks.

'I have a plan,' he says, squeezing her hand, 'but we need to be careful. Regina can't know that I remember and you know the truth, so we're going to have to lie a little bit. Can you do that, Belle? Can you trust me?'

She looks up into his eyes. He loves her, he's going to protect her, and she's been dreaming of him ever since they met in this world.

'I trust you,' she says: 'I trust you with my life.'

He takes her cold hand and kisses it, and then he tells her what he has in mind.

0

Emma is sitting in the empty sheriff's station, spinning her chair out of boredom when the phone rings.

'Sheriff's station.'

'Ms Swan,' Mr Gold's voice greets and Emma tenses. 'That favour you owe me: I'm calling it in.'

She sits up straighter. 'What is it?'

'When you do your next patrol, take the road towards Storybrooke General. You'll find a young woman on the road. Pick her up and listen to her story. She needs help, Ms Swan: you help her and forget I called you tonight, forget I have anything to do with this, and I'll consider your debt repaid.'

Emma thinks for a minute. Gold's up to something, but she can tell he's not lying about someone needing help, so she acquiesces.

'Thank you, Ms Swan.'

0

She finds the woman easily enough, walking along the side of the road away from the hospital. She's tiny, with long dark hair and pale skin. She's too thin, Emma thinks, and she's shivering in the cold air. She's wearing what looks to be a hospital gown. Her eyes are wide and frightened, but she doesn't run away.

'My name is Emma,' she says gently: 'can you tell me your name?'

'I don't remember who I am,' the woman says: 'I was in the asylum at the hospital, but I escaped. They said I was crazy, but…'

'It's ok,' Emma says: 'I'm gonna take you back to the station and get you warmed up, and then you can tell me what happened to you, ok?'

The woman nods, eyes grateful. 'Thank you.'

0

Emma is appalled. The young woman, whom Emma is forced to call Jane Doe for now, has told her about being locked in a cold, dark cell for who knows how long, not getting enough to eat, being tormented by a sadistic nurse, being subjected to electric shock therapy, and being visited periodically by a woman who smirks at her through the opening in the door, a woman she says the nurse called Mayor Mills, and why is Emma not surprised that Regina has something to do with this?

What makes it all so much worse, though, is the mysterious package that's appeared on her desk since she's been out on patrol. It contains blueprints for the hospital, but they don't show the basement asylum, nor is there any record in official hospital documents of there being an asylum on the grounds, nor is there any record of a patient fitting Jane Doe's description. On top of that, it seems that the nurse who runs the place has been embezzling money from the hospital to supplement her income. Emma is sure that Jane Doe is not lying and that these documents, which she guesses came from Mr Gold, are genuine, so it seems she has a huge scandal on her hands.

She knows there's more to this, such as Gold's involvement. Jane Doe has said that she took advantage of the nurse's distraction to escape, but Emma knows Gold helped her, and she knows that all this evidence came from him. Jane Doe is obviously in on keeping Gold's involvement secret and Emma doesn't know why, but part of her favour is to keep silent about his involvement, so she will. She doesn't know what Gold is getting out of this, but, if she needs to, she'll make sure Jane Doe is safe from him as well as from Regina.

Jane Doe twists her fingers together nervously and Emma smiles at her.

'You're safe now,' she promises. 'We're gonna open an investigation and figure out what's going on here.'

Jane Doe nods. 'Thank you,' she says, relieved.

0

It's going as he said it would. Emma has called in the sheriff and the mayor and there's a serious discussion going on. Belle watches from the open cell, where she sits curled up on the bunk, a blanket wrapped around her. Emma was sensitive enough to use a trashcan as a doorstop, so Belle doesn't have to be afraid of being locked in again. The door is open wide, but Belle stays where she is, because there's no way she's going near Mayor Mills.

The discussion stops when another man comes into the room. He's tall with red hair and glasses, and Belle knows that this is the town's psychologist, Dr Hopper. Rumplestiltskin told her that he would be called to come and speak to her. She knows that all she has to do is tell him the truth and everything will be alright.

0

'She's clearly delusional!' Regina snaps.

'Actually, she's not,' Archie says, and he sounds angry.

Emma looks at him as he comes out of the cell, having spoken with Jane Doe at length.

'Archie?' she asks.

'She's suffering from amnesia,' he says, 'perhaps as the result of some trauma, but she's not dangerous: she should never have been locked up.' He looks at Regina. 'I don't know what's going on down at that hospital, Madam Mayor, but that young woman is terrified of you and Nurse Fletcher, and she clearly hasn't been getting enough to eat. I have serious questions about how you're running this town.'

'Ok, tell me this,' Regina demands: 'why on earth would I waste my time visiting some mental patient I don't even know?'

Emma walks up close to her. 'Maybe because you've got some twisted perception of your own power,' she says. 'You're going down, Regina: something tells me this won't be the last secret that's gonna come and bite you in the ass.'

0

The whole town is talking about the woman Ms Swan found on the roadside, the woman with a tale of being locked up in a secret asylum, the woman who has officially been proclaimed _not_ crazy by the good Dr Hopper.

There's been uproar, of course. Other so-called patients of the secret asylum have been freed and a tall, dark-haired man, who doesn't speak, but can write, has revealed how Nurse Fletcher has been running the asylum according to her whims and has been using him as slave labour. Everything's worked out wonderfully. People are questioning Regina's leadership and Madam Mayor is on the brink of losing control of her town.

Rumplestiltskin is relieved, but he can't show it, of course. He has to feign indifference a little longer, wait for Regina to come to him before he reveals his hand. It won't be long, he knows, but it's safer that he stays away from Belle for now.

She's played her part beautifully, as he knew she would, and no one in town knows what really happened that night. Even Ms Swan is keeping her mouth shut, but he suspects that's more for her own benefit than his: with everyone questioning Regina's actions, Emma suddenly looks like a more stable parental figure for young Henry.

Rumplestiltskin goes about his business as Mr Gold, yearning for Belle, but staying away, counting down the days until he can hold her again.

0

Belle settles in at the bed and breakfast and tries to adjust to life outside the asylum. It's made a little easier by the kindness she's received, from Emma and Ruby and Granny and Archie, and some of the other townspeople. It's also a relief to know that Nurse Fletcher is behind bars for embezzlement and false imprisonment. Mayor Mills is still walking the streets, though. Apparently, they don't have enough proof that she knew anything about the asylum, despite what Belle has said about her being there, but the investigation is ongoing and Belle hopes that the Mayor will be held accountable for what she's done. At least the other woman is staying away from her.

She misses Rumplestiltskin. She sees him from a distance sometimes, but she has to pretend she doesn't know him and he pretends he doesn't know her. He's told her it won't be long before they can be together and it won't be long after that before she remembers, but she misses him.

Still, she's free now and she knows they'll be together soon, so she waits, trying to be patient.

0

He manages to keep Regina guessing with a few well chosen 'pleases', but when she takes the cup, he knows it's time to come clean.

He goes to her house and finds her there, the cup sitting on her coffee table.

'That doesn't belong to you, dear,' he snarls.

She smirks. 'I'll return it, but you have to tell me something first.'

'And what would that be?'

'Your name.'

'It's Mr Gold,' he returns, playing for time just to annoy her.

'Your _real_ name.'

'All the time I've been on this earth, that's been my name.'

'But what about time spent elsewhere?' she asks coyly.

'What are you asking me?'

She leans forward, glaring at him. 'You want your little trinket, you tell me your name.'

He smirks and waits for a long beat. 'Rumplestiltskin,' he finally hisses.

She lets out a breath, and, much to his satisfaction, she looks afraid.

'Yes,' he says, taking up the cup quickly, 'and, just to be clear, I am gonna make you pay for what you did to Belle.'

'You helped her escape, didn't you?'

'Of course I did. You remember when you went off in search of Henry when he went to find his mother?' he asks, knowing she'll be riled up at hearing Emma called his mother. 'Your lackey, Nurse Fletcher, thought she'd use Belle to make a little money and brought her to me for… Well, I'm sure you can guess what the arrangement was. Only it turned out that Mr Gold, thankfully, took pity on her and nothing untoward happened. Emma arrived the next day and my memories returned, and I immediately started looking for Belle. It took me a while to figure out where you'd hidden her, but at least she's safe now.'

'I could have killed her,' she says, 'but I didn't.'

He snorts. 'No, what you did was much worse: you kept her alive to use as a pawn in our long-running chess match. You kept her alive so you could kill her when it suited you.' He leans down and snarls at her. 'There's nothing left for you to hold over me, Regina, and there's nowhere left for you to hide, no more moves for you to make. Checkmate, dearie.'

Straightening up, Rumplestiltskin turns and walks away, Belle's cup cradled gently in his hand. For years, it was all he had to remember her by, but Belle is here, and he's not waiting any longer to hold her.

0

Belle is tidying her room at the bed and breakfast when there's a knock on the door.

'Come in,' she invites, expecting Ruby or Granny.

But when she turns, it's Rumplestiltskin she sees, and he's smiling.

She moves towards him. 'Is it safe?' she asks softly.

He nods, reaching for her, and she reaches for him too.

'Oh, thank goodness,' she breathes, embracing him.

He sighs and kisses the side of her head. Looking down, he finds her much healthier than she was, her beautiful face regaining its glow and her body returning to suppleness.

'I missed you,' she whispers.

'I missed you too,' he returns, and he's astounded by the look on her face. She doesn't remember him, but that's the look he saw on her face when they kissed. She loved him in the old world and it seems she may love him in this one too, even without her memories.

'I love you,' he whispers.

Belle loves him too. She doesn't remember what they had before, but she loves him now. She reaches up and kisses him, and he gently kisses her back.

Suddenly it's like a light has been switched on in her brain and she gasps.

'Belle?' he asks, frightened.

She looks up at him as memories slot into place. She smiles.

'I remember,' she tells him joyfully: 'Rumplestiltskin, I remember!'

He stares at her. 'H-how?'

She smiles. 'You know how.'

He does. 'True Love's Kiss.'

Her lips tremble. 'This means it's True Love.'

'Yes,' he agrees, touching his forehead to hers, 'and I am never letting you go again.'

**The end - thanks for reading :)**


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